


In the Hands of the Enemy -- Whumptober 2020

by Doctor_Discord



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Markiplier TV (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Branding, Collars, Kidnapping, Knives, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: Eric pokes around in places he shouldn’t, and eventually strikes gold.A bit AU-y, in the sense that the Host doesn’t exist and the Author played his cards a bit more carefully.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164956
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	In the Hands of the Enemy -- Whumptober 2020

Eric hesitantly opened the gate to the manor, slipping outside its borders. He didn’t like sneaking around like this. Sneaking away from the manor before anyone else was up, before _Dark_ was up, just to go take a walk. Sure, he understood _why_. He’d heard the stories of the rouge ego in the woods. The one who made King pale and rub the scar on his arm and the Jims near pass out from fear. The _maniac_ that had only stopped hunting them after Dark had made some deal. 

Drawing a deep breath, Eric began the walk around the manor’s perimeter, one hand running over the iron bars of the fence, constantly checking over his shoulder as the sun slowly rose. …Maybe he was a little naive, but he just wanted to _meet_ the Author. Surely he couldn’t be as bad as the older egos made him out to be. It was just prejudice and fear talking, right? He must be lonely, living out alone in the woods for so many years. Maybe Eric could be his friend.

Swallowing hard, Eric’s hand slowly left the iron fence as he took his first step into the forest. It was pretty out here, with the sky turning pink and orange and baby blue with the rising sun. A little cold, but not too bad. Still, Eric was grateful for the light jacket he’d grabbed that was probably actually Reynolds’ judging by the way it hung off him. Eric doubted the man would miss it much.

He would be lying if he said he _wasn’t_ curious about the Author in general though. Even _Bim_ flinched at the mention of him, always pulling King closer to himself. Eric didn’t know much about him at all – apparently, after making the deal with Dark a few years ago, he’d yet to be spotted again. They didn’t know if he was alive or dead. Most of the others _firmly_ desired his death, but…Eric was never that type of person. He wouldn’t even wish death on his own shitty, abusive father.

Still…

Eric halted on the border deep within the forest that Dark and the Author had forged all those years ago – it wasn’t visible, but after living in the manor, Eric _knew_ what Dark’s magic felt like, what the thick scent of ozone meant. Anything and any _one_ who crossed it was fair game for the Author’s ‘games’, as Dark called them. Eric had been strictly warned to _never_ go anywhere even _near_ it. The Author was _dangerous_. He was a _psychopath_ , who found nothing but pure, sadistic _joy_ in watching others bleed. Or so he’d been told.

Eric took a step, and crossed the border.

 _Immediately_ , the forest went dead quiet. No more sounds of early morning birds or insects or the rummaging of other animals. The sudden silence sent an icy trickle of _fear_ racing slowly down Eric’s spine, and for the first time, he began to consider that the Author was _exactly_ as the others described. That he was a _monster_ , with an insatiable _blood lust_. He quickly backpedaled over the border, spinning on his heel, and made to hurry back home –

A hand appeared on his shoulder, gripping tight.

Eric _froze_.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going, hm?” The grip on his shoulder tightened, and Eric’s breathing hitched as he was tugged sharply back over the border and spun around. The first thing he saw was _gold_. The beautiful, terrible _gold_ of the Author’s eyes that seemed to draw him in and lock him in place. They _burned_ , like twin, miniature suns. Beautiful in the same way a gem was beautiful; cold, and sharp. Eric couldn’t look away, even as he learned when Wilford always called the Author’s grin ‘shark-like’. 

Another trickle of fear slid down his back as the Author pulled a pen from his pocket, and shoved the tip of it into the underside of Eric’s chin, hard enough to hurt as he tilted Eric’s chin up. Tears sprang to Eric’s eyes, but he didn’t dare pull away. The border was _right there_ , but he didn’t know if the Author could cross. He didn’t know if he was already forfeit because _he_ crossed. He didn’t _know_ , and he was _far_ too afraid to find out what would happen if he tried to run and got caught. “Um –”

“Are you one of _Dark’s?_ ” The _delight_ on the Author’s face as the realization struck him made Eric want to shrink into a ball. “Oh it’s been a _long_ time since I was able to get my hands on one of _you_. Tell me, how _are_ the lovebirds? What about King, and those twins? They were always my favorite. Always willing to scream so pretty when I took a knife to the other one…”

The way he _spoke_ , so – _bluntly_ , about how he _tortured_ Eric’s family – Eric had never known fear like _this_. The harsh warnings made sense now, the way they were drilled into his head from the second he walked through the manor’s door – Eric felt like a piece of meat that had just been thrown into the lion’s den. 

The Author hummed, clicking his pen, the tip now digging even more painfully into Eric’s skin, before he was moving, _fast_ , grabbing Eric’s hair and yanking his head back. Eric couldn’t help but swallow hard in his fear as he felt the Author beginning to write. Whatever the Author wrote came _true_ , right? That’s what Dark –

The Author tugged sharply on his hair, and Eric couldn’t help the strangled sound. “Stop fucking shaking and swallowing, I’m trying to write. Words get smudged, powers don’t work. Now stay. _Still_.”

Eric didn’t even _think_ about disobeying.

And a moment later, Eric found himself standing in the middle of what looked to be a small cabin. Papers and books were _everywhere_ , but he really didn’t have time to process it before the Author’s grip was tightening in his hair, and he was _dragging_ him over to what had to be his desk. Eric stumbled, nearly losing his footing as he cried out, his hands coming up to grip the Author’s wrist in an attempt to alleviate the pressure, to little avail. And then the Author was throwing him bodily to the floor, and Eric had barely any time to react before the Author was slamming a boot onto his back, pinning him to floor as he reached over to his desk.

“I haven’t been this excited in a long time!” He clicked his pen a couple of times, grabbing one of his many notebooks and flipping it open to scribble something down. “One of the Oh So Mighty Darkiplier’s _charges~…_ I almost can’t help myself!” When he moved back into Eric’s field of view, his pen had been replaced with a coil of rope, and he finally shifted his weight off of Eric’s back, just to grab his wrists and tie them painfully tight behind his back. He forced Eric to his knees, cinching the rope tight till Eric’s wrists were practically touching his ankles, and the Author bound those as well, continuing to feed the rope between Eric’s legs to tie his knees together.

“The things I want to do to you, kid…” The Author reached back up onto his desk, and Eric was helpless to stop him from fastening the leather dog collar tight around his throat, tight enough that it restricted his breathing enough to make him wheeze for air. The Author pet his hair, tilting his head, a fond smile of his face, but his golden eyes were still cold, void of emotion, _calculating_. “I am going to learn _so_ much about you…all your darkest fears…the way you cry, the way you scream, the way you _bleed_ …” He grinned again, running his tongue over his teeth, and Eric shook under the touch to his hair. “If I pace myself, maybe I’ll be able to make a series out of you! Can’t get too excited, or I’ll break you too fast, and where’s the fun in that? Who know when this kind of opportunity will come again!”

The Author patted his head, then stood, turning to the kitchen. Eric sat kneeling, staring at the floor, bordering on hyperventilating, eyes wide with panic. What does he do?! How does he get out of this, he couldn’t _breathe_ , he was _terrified_ , and he had no doubt the Author was slaughter him like an animal should he try anything. He just had to wait. He had to wait, and sooner or later, someone would notice he was missing, right? Dark would come in, save him, and everything would be fine! Sure, Dark would be _livid_ , but Eric would rather have the fury of the man he’s come to respect for disobeying him than be the Author’s _plaything_.

He was snapped out of his hopeful fantasy by the Author’s laughter, sharp and wild, a bit like a hyena’s. Now, he wielded a _large_ kitchen knife that had Eric _paling_ rapidly. “You think Dark will come save you?” Eric’s eyes shot wide, fighting back a squeak as the Author crouched down in front of him again, pressing the tip of the knife just under Eric’s chin. The Author arched an eyebrow, sticking his bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Oh I’m sorry, did you not realize you were talking out loud? Well, kid, I’m sorry to tell you this, but…” He _grinned_ , putting a little pressure on the blade, just enough for Eric to start to bleed. “ _No one is coming for you_. If Dark crosses that border, well. Deal’s off. I get free reign again. And if anyone _else_ crosses it…” He tapped Eric’s nose with the blade, nicking him a little. “I _own_ them. Just like I own _you_.”

The shock, the tears, the sheer fucking _terror_ on Eric’s face must’ve been _amusing_ to him, because the Author _cracked up_ , lowering the blade for a moment as he covered his face with his free hand. He _laughed_ and _laughed_ and fucking _laughed_ , and when he was done, when the tears were trailing freely down Eric’s face, when the _hopelessness_ had finally begun settling in, the Author dropped his hand, still giggling to himself, and he forced Eric’s head to the side, touching the blade to his cheek as he began to carve a _deep_ letter ‘A’ into his face.

“We’re going to have so much _fun_ together, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, still love hurting the sweet innocent bb~
> 
> Tumblr: doctordiscord123.tumblr.com


End file.
